


Every Time You Come Around

by Val_Creative



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Arson, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Consentacles, Double Penetration, Drunken Flirting, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Ghost Sex, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Romantic Friendship, Smoking, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Not much else to do, roaming around downtown on a Thursday night, uncapping a gallon of kerosene.Mayhem thy name is Klaus Hargreeves.





	Every Time You Come Around

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY HAVE AN EXCUSE TO MAKE CONSENTACLES SO HERE WE GO. Friendtacles. Bentacles. Prompt was "[Ghost!Ben/Klaus](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=4124)" with details in link, and yeah, I really adore these two! Sexy or non-sexy. I would deeply appreciate any and all comments from those of you out here reading this! It's my first proper consentacles so dsjhkdgsjksd. And to all the people on the server reading this: You are the absolute best ever! I'm love you!

 

*

Not much else to do, roaming around downtown on a Thursday night, uncapping a gallon of kerosene.

_Mayhem thy name is Klaus Hargreeves._

There's no one but him around the old, abandoned skate park. Klaus merrily whistles a tune similiar to 'London Bridge' — _Fergie's_ version, not the English nursery rhyme, Ben thinks — lifting his leg high and violently kicking open the rusty steel gate in one fell swoop.

He heads for the bowl lay-out of the park, climbing drunkenly, enthusiastically over a quarter pipe. Klaus proudly flourishes the gallon-jug up, as if for an audience, tossing as much of the flammable liquid down below. It's noxiously odorous if Ben could somehow smell the air. Klaus won't admit it, but Ben knows why he's really here — it's not just a affinity for chaos and mayhem. He's here to destroy a memory.

A _bad_ one. One that Klaus carries too vulnerably.

Probably a grown drug dealer who took advantage of Klaus at a tender age. Reasons be damned. There is no reason or excuse to have hurt a sixteen-year-old boy. No matter how much of junkie he was.

A distant, pale glow of streetlamps and the brightness of the flames illuminate him.

Klaus's expression tightens.

He forces himself to grin and shakes the plastic, red jug, listening to the sloshing within.

"By _JOVE_! The fun never ends!" Klaus crows, racing for the nearby park, laughing infectiously and keeping to the shadowy areas. For the hell of it, he splashes what roughly resembles a five-star pentagram into the dewy grass, without setting fire to the whole area, lighting it up with one of his cheap matches.

"I never understood you and your love of arson," Ben observes, remembering how Mom would often reprimand a devilish Klaus setting his homework papers and even his cabinet drawers on fire.

Klaus yawns and sprawls out on his back, his muscle-taut abdomen uncovered by the snowy, lace-up croptop. The half-sleeves also a snowy white and puffed out. Its front hangs loosely, opened completely by undone white lace-strings exposing Klaus's chest dusted by golden hairs.

He still has on the daisy flower-crown weaved together by Claire and Allison, prancing and twirling through the Academy and declaring his royal status. Ben doesn't think he asked permission to use it now.

"Sounds like a _you_ problem," Klaus mutters, checking Luther's stolen wrist-watch.

Ben answers this by glaring a little, unimpressed, and plopping down on top of Klaus, straddling him.

He has been practicing how to manifest fully since Klaus's abilities peaked and feels vindication by the quick sensation of heaviness overtaking him and Klaus. An ' _oof_!' leaves Klaus as he stares up indignantly at Ben, Klaus's faintly lit cigarette resting to the corner of his mouth.

" _Geddoff_!"

"Make me."

He anticipates Klaus's **GOODBYE** palm-hit directly aimed underneath Ben's chin, holding down his arms until Klaus finally protests, whining. His light green eyes squinting. "You gonna behave?" Ben says sternly, and also anticipates the low, lusty noise from the other man. It's _Klaus_.

"Mmm…" Even in the poor lighting, Ben can make out every facial twitch of his and the squirm of Klaus's torso. "Depends on the offer… I'm up for a little punishment game with your friends."

Ben rolls his eyes. "For the last time, I'm not fucking you with them."

"You know what, Ben," Klaus says, jeering, wrenching out of Ben's grasp and propping himself up on his elbows to the grass. His mouth twitching downwards. "Death made you _lame_."

"And somehow you hornier than usual," Ben counters quietly but snickering.

He plucks the cigarette from Klaus's mouth, taking a puff, releasing and waving away the thinning smoke. Ben can't _taste_ the ash and nicotine, unfortunately, but it's worth getting an intrigued, wide-eyed look from Klaus. Guess he never knew about Ben stealing Allison's cigarettes in her room.

There's still a decision to be made.

Ben contemplates it, and then focuses on the _void_ deep inside him. Stretching it open, gaping.

He quivers, awed, letting out a grunt. One of the tentacles slithers out. A ghastly-blue glow emitting from it. The tentacle lands with a wet _plop!_ Klaus, wriggling and poking with aggressive intent around Klaus's lace-up top, leaving a trail of clear, gelatinous slime on Klaus's flesh.

" _Shit_ ," Klaus breathes, yelping high-pitched when a pulsing, living sucker grazes his nipple. Burning-hot and moist like the inside of a lover he's been long familiar with.

"Try not to move so much."

"Why?" Klaus asks, not raising his voice. He smiles, amused. "Is my dick gonna get ripped off?"

"… I wouldn't test it," Ben says cryptically, moving to kneel between Klaus's legs. There's a bulging, massive tentacle dangling out of him. Fuck. "I don't even know how I'm doing _this_."

Another tentacle appears, much smaller, ghastly-blue. It prods over Klaus's lips, waiting until he accepts its warm, fleshy presence filling his mouth. A layer of thin and barb-like prickles coat the underside of the small tentacle. Its tip, rubbing continuously over Klaus's molars, suddenly sprays a cool fluid against the roof of Klaus's mouth and right on his his tongue. Tastes like _cum_ -flavored pudding substitute.

Klaus doesn't hate it, and obediently swallows what's left.

The small tentacle nudges towards the back of Klaus's throat, jolting in, slick-sliding and stuffing the narrow channel as Klaus gurgles, _elated_ , the need to choke out making his throat-walls spasm erratically. His jaw struggles to widen, to accommodate the tentacle's meaty girth _fatter_ than most cocks Klaus has taken.

It fucks him at a slow pace, out, in, _in_.

Ben watches this happen with rapt attention, his chapped lips parting. Eyes shining, dark and a kind of possessive fascination. He tugs open Klaus's low-rise, skinny and black jeans, easing them down Klaus's spread-open thighs, over knees, and pulled straight from his ankles. No underwear.

Of _fucking_ course.

Klaus's bare toes wiggle in anticipation and he moans, eager to be filled some more, as a bigger, thicker tentacle dripping with slime teases over Klaus's cleft and his hole, nestling.

He licks his lips unconsciously, gripping his hands over his companion's kneecaps and listening to Klaus's stifled, _pleading_ groans. Ben's thumbs drag comfortingly across the soft downy hair. No idea when the tentacle penetrates him until Klaus thrusts beneath him, his face blissed-out.

Unlike the one lodged in his esophagus, this tentacle repeatedly squirts inside him, filling Klaus's ass with ecto-slime and a numbing tentacle-cum. So much that the _harder_ , more rapid fucking makes undeniably wet-squelching noises, leaking its fluid onto the park's grass.

Ben pants, seemingly lost in euphoria, and Klaus wonders if Ben can feel him like this. Can he _feel_ Klaus through his connection to the eldritchian, inter-dimensional creatures?

Somehow that just makes Klaus harder. He's so close to an orgasm, desperate to get off. More blur, near-transparent tentacles push open Klaus's shirt, crawling over his naked, heaving skin. The suckers pinching down and flattening to Klaus's arms and his sternum, bruising him in rough, _kiss_ -like bruising, and he wants to laugh, _laugh_ and cum all over Ben's tentacles, and just—

The muscles of both tentacles, settled deep in Klaus's mouth and his anal canal, start trembling. Contracting. Shooting its load of hot, gushy tentacle-cum into his orifices. He's a double cocksleeve for Ben's ghostly _creatures_ … and nothing, _nothing_ has ever been more incredible.

It's a little too much abuse on Klaus's overwhelmed senses, and he turns over jerkily. Klaus gags and spits out the glossy, blue-glow fluid, when the tentacles retreat and vanish into Ben.

Holy shit, no one died. Again.

Klaus stares at him, gobsmacked, his flower-crown missing.

" _Jesus christ, Ben_."

"You think Jesus can do that shit?" Ben retorts, his mouth aching from smiling.

*

 


End file.
